


Who Waits Forever

by myredturtle



Series: Forever Is Our Today [2]
Category: Inception (2010), James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myredturtle/pseuds/myredturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Eames are determined to find out who or what is messing with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

When Q went to meet James Bond at the National Art Gallery, he thought he knew what he was in for.

It had been a time of upheaval in MI6. The explosion had taken out a number of highly placed personnel. They had lost M's secretary, the previous Q, and also Q's handpicked second in command and likely successor.

In retrospect, the two most highly placed agents in Q-branch going up to M's office to deal with the same threat had been a mistake. There were procedures in place that were supposed to prevent a situation like this occurring. Procedures that had been ignored to the detriment of MI6 as a whole and Q-branch in particular.

The current Q — previously known as K, a letter he had designated for himself — had been in deep cover as a student at Moscow State University following similar stints in New York and Beijing. He was due to spend some time in Mumbai before finally returning to MI6's loving embrace, but with everything in such a shambles he had been recalled early.

Arriving back in London had been a rather big shock. It was one thing to see the explosion on the telly, it was completely different to see the damage close up and realise that several people he knew had died there.

M had handed Q-branch over to him, congratulated him on his promotion, told him they would discuss his pay later, and then gave him a list of what she needed accomplished as soon as possible. The newly dubbed Q was left to try and pull together a scattered, grieving branch who didn't know him from Adam, assert his authority, and get them working as a team again.

There were many times in those initial two weeks where Q was grateful that his status as an online sentinel was considered 'need to know'. His senses enabled him to keep a much closer eye on his co-workers and subordinates than would likely have been appreciated. Many burgeoning problems were nipped in the bud before they could properly manifest, and Q-branch slowly but surely began to function as a whole again.

Of course, it would have been even easier if he had found a matched guide. Since that was so rare, Q — like most other sentinels — had learned to cope with the assistance of any guide who was compatible. M herself was the best match he had found, and she was able to give him sufficient grounding to allow him to operate on the second level for long periods of time.

One of the many tasks he had set for himself in that time was the investigation of all agents that fell under Q-branch's purview, in particular the double-ohs. Most of these agents were gossiped about freely throughout the agency, and Q made careful note of what people had to say about them even as he went over the official files with a fine-tooth comb.

He also shamelessly hacked into M's personal files, making a note of ways to make her systems more secure as he did so. She really shouldn't be keeping some of this stuff where anyone could disable the security footage, 'investigate the issue', sneak in, and add his latest gadget — a device that allowed him to access her computer remotely without triggering any of the detection software that had been put into place for things like this.

When he had finished copying the files he wanted, he remotely disabled and de-powered the device, sending it dormant and making it look like any other 10p coin. As soon as the power was cut, it dropped from where it had been attached to the underside of her laptop to the floor. Not only was it no longer able to send or receive a signal, only the most careful of scrutiny would notice any difference between the device and any other coin of the same denomination.

Since the level of scrutiny that would be required meant lasering open the coin to see what was inside it, Q was confident that these little beauties would escape detection for some time, provided they could be kept a secret.

Of course the first thing he looked at was his own file. He wasn't ashamed about it either. He snorted with laughter when he saw what was on the single document in his folder.

It was a note from M congratulating him on bypassing her security. She went on to request that he inform her of his success immediately so that she could wipe the folders. There was also a salary scale for him based upon how long it took him to hack into her laptop.

Q was quite pleased to see that while he was two days after her first guess, he was still in the highest pay bracket.

Her files on the other MI6 employees were extremely illuminating. M was blunt and straightforward in her assessment of each person's strengths and weaknesses. She also included her personal feelings about many of the agents. The ones whose loyalty she was one hundred percent sure of and which ones she was keeping an eye on for no solid reason other than her gut. She used her guide gifts without compunction and read everyone around her at all times.

So Q thought he knew what to expect.

James Bond, Agent 007, was known throughout Six as an incredibly intelligent, capable, ruthless man who alternatively killed and charmed his way around the world on behalf of Her Majesty. His antics in the bedroom were a legend, and some of the messes he'd left behind staggered the imagination. Q had seen photos and video footage of the man in action, and M's private notes had added the final piece of the puzzle. One of MI6's best kept secrets was that all of the double-oh agents, James Bond included, were guides.

A guide had certain advantages when it came to gaining peoples trust and exploiting their emotions, and 007 was one of the best. Like M, he used his gifts for the benefit of England with no signs of hesitation.

Q knew that as a sentinel he would automatically be on the back foot. So he made sure to amour himself for the meeting as much as possible. His hair and clothes were calculated to give him the appearance of a young student trying — unconvincingly — to look older than he was. He had a tight rein on his senses, having grounded them with M before he set out. She had allowed it with the barest hint of an eye-roll, but Q caught her mouth twitching into a smile in the reflection on one of the windows as he went out.

Q kept his eyes on the floor as he approached the figure on the bench. He'd chosen this painting and planned his words to give himself a few moments to get his bearings before he was exposed to the full allure of a double-oh guide who routinely used his gifts for seduction.

All of that went out of the window when he got his first in-person look at the most talked about member of Six.

In a moment, his mind expanded.

He was no longer Q, formerly K, of MI6. He was Arthur, self-named Embodiment of Order. He wasn't looking at James Bond, agent of the Queen. He was looking at Eames, Embodiment of Chaos, and at the body Eames had been inhabiting while they played out their lives in this world that they had created together. A world that they had created for one purpose and one purpose only. To find out who or what had been messing with them and get them to stop.

Arthur and Eames had been playing this game of building worlds to inhabit and explore since the day that Eames had suggested that fighting each other for world after world was just a waste of effort when they could be enjoying their existence instead.

Arthur had been dubious at first, and had suspected Eames of some deeper plan. But after lives spent exploring, either together or apart, Arthur had come to the conclusion that it was more likely that Eames had been bored with the same fight played out over and over again, only the terrain changing. This way there was an endless array of new experiences, new situations, new lives to explore.

They each took turns. Eames would build and grow a world, and once their lives in that world had played out, Arthur would have his turn. They had been beggars and kings, men and women, animals of all description — the time Eames had made them into dolphins was perhaps the most fun, relaxing life he'd ever had. Arthur's latest lives had included being a human/vulcan hybrid who explored space for a living, a dwarf king, and a wizard.

It was only recently that they'd detected someone, something, interfering with their carefully planned worlds. Once Arthur had accepted that Eames wasn't the culprit, they'd started planning. This was the world they had come up with, but it seemed their invisible friend had already been at work.

Sentinels and guides had not been part of the plan. The very concept hadn't occurred to Arthur, and Eames had never mentioned anything about it either. Since Eames had a habit of bouncing his ideas off Arthur before trying to incorporate them into a society, that was a fairly large indication that whoever-it-was had done it on purpose. Because not only was Arthur a sentinel and Eames a guide, it very much looked like they were matched!

Only one in a hundred sentinels ever found a guide who truly matched them. Q knew the statistics, knew that it was most probable that he would never have a matched guide. It had never bothered him. In fact, the thought of sharing himself so fully with another being was quite frightening.

By the look on James Bond's face, Eames was getting his wake up call too.

Arthur watched while Eames' eyes widened with new knowledge. He watched as his partner assimilated everything, watched those straight shoulders droop for a few seconds before Eames got a hold of himself.

“All right, darling,” Eames said in James Bond's voice. “I have had about enough of this. You and I need to talk, right fucking now, and luckily we have a perfect excuse to absent ourselves. Call the old battle-axe, would you? You and I are going to be out of commission for at least a week. Make that two.”

Arthur was dialling M's secure number before his mind truly registered what Eames meant.

They were matched. That meant immediate seclusion for as long as it took for the bond to settle. Knowing Eames, he was going to want the full experience. Arthur recognised the thrill that went through his body even as M picked up the phone. The next few weeks were going to be fun.

M wasn't in the least bit pleased to hear their news, not that Arthur cared about that overly much. He quickly nominated his most capable minion to be in charge of Q-branch in his absence and then rang off, too distracted by the aroma emanating from Eames to do anything more.

“Ready, darling?” Eames didn't bother to listen for an answer, just grabbed Arthur's hand and headed towards the nearest exit.

Arthur's feet started moving almost of their own volition. He only vaguely noticed they were moving until the brisk London air reached his nostrils. “Where are we going?” he asked, managing to scramble together some semblance of control.

“Where do you think?” Eames said with a faint grin, his eyebrow raised in a smug way that made Arthur want to slap him. “My place, of course.”

“I thought MI6 sold your apartment?” Q said.

“Tut tut, Arthur,” Eames said mockingly. “You don't think I let Six know about all of my bolt holes, do you? What kind of international spy do you take me for?”

That was a fair point, and one he should probably investigate with regards to the other agents. Not that he planned to tell M, or anyone really, about what he found. Q was of the opinion that the agents who gave so much of themselves for the sake of England deserved at least the illusion of privacy. Arthur still felt that way, and right this moment things were working out very nicely.

Which raised a point.

“Stop for a moment,” Arthur commanded as he pulled his hand from his guide's with some difficulty and reached into the pocket of his rather flimsy jacket.

“What's that?” Eames asked curiously as Arthur fiddled with the small device.

“It's a signal disruptor.” Arthur explained. “It's highly localised and interferes with the way light and heat register in a small radius. We can still be seen by the naked eye and a satellite would still be able to track us, albeit with some difficulty and only on its highest settings, but any other surveillance won't register our presence.”

“Arthur,” Eames said slowly, “have you invented a personal cloaking device?”

“No!” Arthur replied indignantly. “It's a signal disruptor! A cloaking device is… never mind.” He deflated as he saw the gleeful look on Eames face. No matter which body he was inhabiting, Eames had the ability to look like a boy of eight just given his first remote control car. Arthur refused to admit that he found it charming.

“You have!” Eames grabbed Arthur's hand again as soon as he had stowed the gadget back in his pocket. “Why didn't you bring me one? Don't tell me you were going to send me off with just a gun and a radio!”

“They're still in development,” Arthur said as they entered an underground car-park. “I'm not letting any of the agents take a device out into the world if I don't know how to work around it. The rate that you lot lose your equipment, it won't be long before someone we're not terribly fond of gets hold of one and reverse engineers it.”

“Don't be such a spoilsport,” Eames chided. “How about if I ask very nicely? Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with integer coefficients on top?”

“Hmm.” Arthur said, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts. “Perhaps we could make a deal. How about you be on top the first time, and after that we can negotiate some more.”

“Unfair, darling,” Eames said as he removed a very familiar key from his pocket. “I thought that was one of the perks of being a guide, getting to sit back and relax for this first go-round.”

“That key was reported destroyed,” Arthur said resignedly as Eames deftly disabled the car alarm of the Jaguar he'd decided to steal. He got in, wondering how Eames managed to make motor vehicle theft so commonplace. For him it probably was.

“Don't be such a fuddy-duddy,” Eames responded as he gunned the engine. “It must have accidentally fallen into my pocket. I'm sure it was only my desire to save your department from more paperwork that made me decide not to hand it in when I found it.”

“I'm sure.” Arthur replied dryly.

Even with Bond's usual disregard for basic safety precautions, it took twenty minutes to get through traffic to Portland Place, where they abandoned the car. Arthur watched as Eames carefully locked it back up, re-setting the alarm.

From there it was a short walk to Queen Anne Mews. Arthur watched with a sort of horrified fascination as Eames stopped by one of his elderly neighbours to have a quick chat and get the key. The lady was very well dressed and she patted James on his cheek before going back inside. If Arthur wasn't so shocked he'd have found it amusing.

“You leave a key with your neighbour?” he hissed, staggered at the level of risk taken by the usually paranoid agent.

Eames shrugged. “One of the benefits of being a guide. I can tell if people are trustworthy. Mrs Pendleton thinks I'm a travelling salesman, and I pay her to see to it that the place is clean and tidy. Oh, don't look so horrified, she organises the cleaning service! Does she look like she needs money to clean houses?”

Arthur acknowledged the point with an incline of his head.

“If she holds true to form, we'll be getting a delivery this evening of organic fruit and vegetables,” Eames said as he unlocked the door, ushering Arthur through.

The minute the door had been closed and locked behind him, Arthur was pushed up against it, his mouth taken in a ferocious kiss that threatened to fry his synapses. His senses were going crazy with the amount of input he was receiving, and he could already feel his rational self start to sink down, his instincts taking over.

“I've needed to do that since I saw you at the Gallery,” Eames groaned when he finally pulled away. “I've never been more glad that I made sure this place would be sentinel friendly, on the barest off-chance I would ever find a match. If I don't get you in a bedroom soon, we're going to end up doing this on the dining room table, and that was not what I had planned.”

Arthur was beyond the capability of speech at that point. All of his senses were caught up in his guide. In his taste, in his smell, in the feel of his skin and hair under his fingertips. He shuddered as Eames voice slid through him and reverberated off his very bones. He was drowning in a sea of blue as his gaze locked with the man in front of him.

Despite his senses being ramped up to the maximum, Arthur was surprised to break that blue gaze and find himself in a bedroom. He wasted no time in discarding his clothes, for once making no effort to be careful. As soon as he was naked he threw himself at Eames again, sighing with relief at the feel of so much skin against his.

They tumbled to the bed, and for a long stretch of time there was just Eames. Eames and his scar covered skin. His firm flesh that rippled as he moved. Blue eyes the colour of the winters sky on a cloudless day. Hair — blond and fine with the occasional grey strand hiding in plain sight. Sweat and musk and an aroma that made Arthur think of fresh bread, still warm from the oven on a cold morning. He wanted to taste that smell, and so he did, learning that skin and those scars with his mouth, wallowing in the sounds Eames was making and the gasp of his breath. Underneath that there was the steady sound of a heartbeat, faster than it had been when they met in the Gallery, but still strong, with a steady rhythm.

There were hands on his skin too, calloused and rough, and so right it felt like heaven. Teeth against his ear, then scraping downwards towards his collar bone. The heat of an erection pressed into him, and he moved his hand to touch it. The moment his hand came into contact with the hot skin, the smell of musk and pheromones increased. Arthur's mouth watered.

He slid down, and wasted no time in taking the leaking tip into his mouth, groaning as the flavour burst across his tongue. There was an answering groan from above him, and Arthur revelled in it, even as he took as much of the straining cock into his mouth as he could. Hands in his hair tugging gently were enough to make him break free, arching his back at the sensation.

All of a sudden he wanted to be covered in his guide, covered by his guide.

“Now, now, fuck me now,” he said desperately, rubbing his body over every part of Eames he could reach. “I want to- now, Eames!”

“Yes,” Eames' voice was so low it was almost guttural.

There was a brief moment when Arthur was alone on the bed and everything in him cried out in distress. But it was over quickly and it was worth it when Eames' slick fingers began to circle his hole. Arthur tried to press into that touch, wanting it harder and deeper. He wanted to feel Eames everywhere. One finger, then two, then three, and it wasn't enough. It felt like it would never be enough.

“You're incredible, Arthur,” Eames' voice was as wrecked as Arthur felt. “I can't wait any more.”

Arthur's response was to shove Eames over onto his back, rising to straddle him. Eames' eyes were open, the pupils blown so wide there was only a small ring of blue remaining. Part of Arthur rejoiced in being able to bring his guide to such a state, but the biggest part of him was focusing on lining himself up with Eames' heavy, straining cock.

Taking a cock had never felt like this before.

Arthur felt like his skin had caught fire as the wave of ecstasy swept through him, leaving his fingers and toes tingling in its aftermath.

“You're going to kill me,” Eames muttered. Then somehow Arthur was on his back, his legs hitched over Eames' broad shoulders.

The manoeuvre made Eames' cock thrust deeper and Arthur was crying out, no thought of controlling his responses entering his head.

And then Eames started fucking him, hips moving purposefully. Arthur's world narrowed further as the pleasure began to build, rising with each hard thrust. He dropped his legs down and reached up to pull his guide down for a kiss, needing to glut all his senses on the man before him.

There was still something missing. Something was keeping him from reaching the very top. Eames seemed to know almost before Arthur did, and a moment later a hand, calloused and rough but slippery with lube, closed around the head of his cock, giving it a firm stroke.

It was enough. It was everything. Arthur felt it build again, and this time he knew he was going over the edge.

Even as he found himself cresting that final peak, he felt Eames meld their minds together, and together they tumbled over. Eames' pleasure was feeding Arthur's and making it greater, which he then fed back to Eames. It was a feedback loop like none Arthur had ever heard of. It went on and on and on until finally he didn't know where his mind finished and Eames began.

There was a moment of perfect oneness and then everything went white.

v^v^v^v

He must have passed out, because when he opened his eyes Arthur was sprawled across the bed sideways, his head hanging over the edge. Eames was resting partly on top of him and was only just starting to stir.

“Darling,” came the groggy voice, “what on earth was that truck I was just hit by?”

“Move, Eames,” Arthur croaked out. He cleared his throat a bit and tried again. “My neck is going to give me hell as it is, I don't want to make it any worse.”

“Your neck?”

There was some shuffling around, and all of a sudden Arthur being manhandled into a more traditional position on the bed. He scowled at the face above him, not impressed.

“Try that again and I'll booby trap every electrical device you ever get from Six to shock you when you least expect it.”

“You say such sweet things,” Eames said with an unrepentant grin, collapsing beside him and draping an arm and a leg over Arthur's supine form.

Arthur found his nose moving without any conscious input, burying itself into a warm neck that smelled, quite frankly, delicious. His whole body went limp and he sighed happily. If Eames was always going to smell this incredible, Arthur planned to never get out of bed ever again. Who cared if there was some supernatural being, or collection of beings for all they knew, messing with them. This, right here, right now, was bliss.

“I never wanted a sentinel,” Eames said, and the wonder in his voice dragged Arthur away from his own musings. “It always seemed like such a sacrifice, to bind your life to one other when there were so many people out there to meet.”

And fuck, Arthur thought, but didn't feel the need to say it.

“And then I started at Six. From the moment I saw a double-oh in action, I wanted to be one. And while it was pretty obvious, to me at least, that they were all guides, not one of them was bonded. And since there are several bonded pairs active in Six, the inference seemed clear. And it makes sense. What guide wants to go gallivanting around the world when their sentinel is at home?”

“Do you regret bonding with me?” Arthur asked carefully, not sure how he felt about this soul-baring, but starting to think that Eames was trying to tell him something.

“No, Arthur, never!”

Eames was so vehement in his denial, Arthur wondered just how much of his hurt had made it through the bond. This was going to take a little getting used to. Arthur was in the habit of reading the bodily signals of those around him to get an estimation of their emotional state, and had become quite adept at hiding his own from anything but a deliberate scan by a guide. To be so open to another person all of a sudden was a bit unsettling.

Especially Eames, who already knew so much about him.

“Are you reading my mind?” Arthur asked, deciding that there was no point in pussyfooting around the issue. It was going to bug him until he found out exactly what Eames was getting from him. And why it was that he wasn't getting the same information back.

“What? No,” Eames replied, pulling Arthur closer and tangling their legs together. “I wouldn't take a reading without your consent, Arthur. You're not a target or a suspected double agent. No, I think it's a side effect of the bond. It's hard to explain. The closest I can come is that your emotions are like a rainbow. I can get a general idea of how you're feeling by the change in colour and depth, although that's not quite right either.”

“Why can't I feel you?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe it only goes one way?” Eames said, running his hand down Arthur's back with a stroking action which felt absolutely divine. “Or maybe… I've built some pretty impressive empathic shields over the years. I've needed to. We're not the only agency that uses guides at the top level.”

“What kind of shields?' Arthur asked, interested in spite of himself.

Sentinels couldn't build shields the way guides could, regardless of the fact that shields were one of the most important parts of the filtering process. A sentinel with no shields was bombarded at all times by sensory input from all directions, and most sentinels couldn't function that way. Shield building was one of the services a guide offered and was why it was so important for a sentinel to have access to a guide who was somewhat compatible. 

An incompatible guide could construct a shield for a sentinel, but it wouldn't last very long, sometimes only minutes.

The shields that M had built for Q had been good for weeks on end, unless he was using his senses a lot. Now that they were bonded, Eames would be maintaining his shields at all times.

“I based them on the idea of an interrogation mirror,” Eames said, smugness radiating from his very skin. “I can receive, but I don't transmit unless I purposefully choose to. And any guide weaker than I am reading me won't be able to tell I'm a guide at all.”

Arthur went rigid. He pulled back to look Eames in the eye. “You've figured out how to make an Osmotic shield? That's just a myth!”

“A variation on the myth, yes,” Eames said with an obnoxious grin. “I don't like to gloat, darling, but I think my version is better. A stronger guide will know I'm a guide, but my mind is still safe unless they use the serums. At which point I'm fucked anyway.”

Arthur didn't even know why he was surprised. This was a man who came up with a way to perform inception when Arthur – who had created the world, after all – had made sure there were defences against that sort of thing. “So you think that shield might be why you're getting things from me but I'm not receiving from you?”

“Hmm.” Eames looked thoughtful for a few moments. “I might need to meditate on it. Theoretically, bonding should have opened a two-way channel. But since this type of shielding is new, it might be interfering.”

“Oh well, whenever,” Arthur said, trying to hide his relief that Eames planned to fix it. It probably didn't work, but there was no need to get out of practice with his habit of hiding his emotions. The rest of the world was still out there, after all.

Out of the blue, Arthur and Eames sighed in unison.

“I don't want to move from here but we do have a mission to accomplish.” Arthur said, closing his eyes and finding that yummy smelling spot on Eames neck again.

“I know,” Eames non-stroking hand came up to bury itself in Arthur's wild nest of hair. “I've no motivation to get going either, darling. What say we just brainstorm a bit, right here. When we feel up to it, we can start taking action.”

“Mmm.” Arthur groaned, reduced to a puddle by the input his senses were receiving. He knew what they had to do was important, intellectually at least. At present nothing seemed more important than wallowing in bliss. He gave into temptation and licked the neck in front of him. It tasted as good as it smelled. Remembering how it felt when Eames did it, Arthur scraped his teeth down the moistened flesh enjoying the moan and the way Eames tensed up.

“Or we could take action of a different kind,” Eames gasped out.

It was some time before they were in any condition to even think about brainstorming.

“I think the channel is open now,” Arthur said, as he pulled out of his guide to collapse beside him. “Also, if you give me a disease I'm going to make whatever life you have left miserable. And the next one too.”

“I've been fully checked out by the sentinel in medical,” Eames said lazily. “And despite my reputation, I don't take stupid risks. You're the only one I haven't bothered to use protection with in over twenty years.”

“Do you expect M to remove you from the double-oh roster, now that you've bonded?” Arthur asked.

There was a complicated mix of emotions from Eames, but nothing truly speaking of regret. Arthur was glad about that. He didn't want to be the cause of Eames unhappiness. Not unless he'd planned to be, anyway.

“I expect I've already been removed,” Eames said finally. “The chances of a double-oh retiring are almost nil. There have only been two in the entire history of Six, and I never thought I'd be number three. It was only a matter of time before I was sent out on a mission that killed me. I very nearly bought it on my last mission, as you're no doubt aware. Now that I have something else to focus on, I'm not unhappy to leave that life behind me.”

Arthur could tell that every word spoken was truth and it eased part of him that he hadn't even realised was tense.

“Now, if you don't object to the cliché, darling, I'm going to sleep for a bit,” Eames said, already sounding drowsy.

“Let's get under the covers first,” Arthur suggested.

It took a bit of effort, and Eames was as uncooperative as a sulky child, but eventually they were cocooned in a nest of blankets. Eames dragged Arthur's back against his front, tangling their legs together again and draping one possessive arm over his waist. Arthur went to sleep warm and sated, the feel of Eames' slumbering mind the best soporific he'd ever come across.

v^v^v^v

Arthur went from a deep sleep to a state of alertness between one breath and the next. He could hear someone unlocking the back door. Someone with a key. A few moments later he identified the intruder as the lady from next door that Eames had spoken to. True to the annoying bastard's prediction, she was bringing in a box of fruit and vegetables.

He listened as she went into one of the other rooms, and heard the box being put down. There was a rustling, followed by the sound of a pen moving over paper. Humming to herself, the neighbour went back out the back door. The lock engaged automatically behind her.

Arthur felt himself relax again.

“I've spent the last few years as MI6's top agent,” came Eames' amused voice from behind him. “I assure you that Maria Pendleton is not in any way a threat to either of us. Unless you're allergic to apples? She does have a fondness for apples, and she's a sharing lady. We can expect at least one apple-based dessert dropped off each day. The dear lady seems to think I'm utterly helpless in the kitchen.”

“You are utterly helpless in the kitchen.” Arthur returned, playing idly with Eames' hand. “I've seen the reports. Luckily, I'm pretty good in the kitchen. I've had a number of compliments over the years, so we'll do okay.”

Eames made a noise of protest, but Arthur could tell that his heart wasn't in it.

There was silence for a while.

Arthur let his senses expand, mapping out the house and the street outside. For the first time since he came online he was able to do it without straining, without having to pull back when he felt himself start to focus on one area a little too hard. Even as he was listening to a conversation three streets away, he was aware of warm breath on the back of his neck and a heavy weight draped over his waist.

Retreating back into his body, he turned around in Eames' arms.

“Let's just not worry about the meddler for this next week,” he said impulsively. “Let's just enjoy ourselves. Relax into it. We've got all the time in the world to go hunting, but we'll only have this period right after bonding once. I just want to experience it the way all those other sentinels who found their matches did.”

“Anything you want, darling,” Eames replied, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

Arthur was hit in that moment by how very attractive Eames current body was.

When Q had first seen pictures of the agency's premier agent, he'd thought the man resembled a thug. A classy thug, certainly, but a thug nevertheless. He'd wondered just how such a man had achieved the successes he had, how he'd made such a name for himself as an expert in seduction.

The satellite footage had been a little more revealing. Q could see that, whatever he looked like, James Bond could move. There was something supremely confident in the man's gait, a challenge without aggression that it was almost impossible to ignore.

Meeting him in person had filled in most of the rest. James Bond was able to take the guide aura and ramp it up without letting his presence trigger the usual warnings that a guide was using his power. If Q hadn't already been informed 007 was a guide, he would never have known.

But right now, with the full force of that attention focused on him, those gorgeous blue eyes smiling in a way that made him feel like he was the only person in the world, Arthur finally got it. James Bond didn't need to be classically beautiful when he could make someone feel so special so easily. Who wouldn't want to feel like the most important person in the world to someone so confident and capable? Someone who could have anyone they wanted?

The seduction wasn't in his gaze, or his face, or his body. The seduction was in the idea. And Arthur felt himself falling into it like so many others before him.

Like them, he didn't even try to resist.

v^v^v^v


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Eames are determined to find out who or what is messing with them.

That first week following their bonding was the best week Arthur had spent with Eames in any of the lifetimes they'd shared together.

There was a sense of isolation, of it being just the two of them, even though they were in the centre of London.

That first day, when they finally crawled out of bed, Arthur had made an online shopping order to be delivered urgently. Now the kitchen was fully stocked with everything they would need, aside from the fruit and vegetables that Eames' lovely neighbour arranged.

As Eames said she would, every day Maria Pendleton dropped off something sweet and made with apples for them to eat. Arthur made sure to always have something to give back, generally something that he had put aside when he'd made them dinner. She was delighted by the attention, and began calling Arthur her 'dear boy' to Eames' obvious delight.

Eames was appreciative of Arthur's culinary efforts too, although he showed his appreciation in vastly different ways.

“It's a good thing we're having so much sex,” he said to Arthur one evening, after savouring his last mouthful of vegetarian lasagne. “If I weren't getting some sort of exercise, I'd soon be no use to Six whether I was bonded or not. How on earth do you manage to eat so much and still stay so lean?”

“Just lucky, I suppose,” Arthur answered with a shrug. He eyed Eames over the table as his guide carefully licked every last trace of sauce from his fork. A sly glance from mischievous blue eyes was enough to confirm that he was doing it on purpose. Oh well, they did need to work off that dinner.

Arthur had met Eames spirit animal, a raccoon that he'd named Wiggins. A slightly embarrassed Eames had explained that as a boy he'd loved Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, and that at school he'd formed a group called 'The Irregulars' in order to role play.

Mufasa, Arthur's African Bush elephant spirit guide, was a little big to be visiting frequently. Nevertheless, he had ways of making himself known. He'd perfected the ability of projecting an insubstantial image of himself rather than the more solid form that a spirit guide usually took when they manifested on the tangible plane.

So far MI6 had left them alone, although Arthur wasn't fooling himself into thinking M didn't know exactly where they were. There were any number of ways to track them after all, even if Arthur had vehemently refused to be chipped. He had advocated so strongly for the removal of all currently deployed chips that Six was now chip-free.

The problem with implanted tracking devices was that it only took a mind slightly more advanced than the one which created them to hack the signal, and then any agent tagged with one was a sitting duck. Q had arranged a presentation which had involved him hacking into the CIA — who were still chipping their agents — and displaying the results to the Foreign Secretary. The removal process had started the next day.

The part of Arthur that was Q and still caught up in MI6's concerns wondered about how the mission Bond had been assigned was going considering that another agent would have been sent at the last minute.

The larger part didn't care.

What did it matter in the long run? Arthur would do his best for this world. He was honestly incapable of anything else. But if it all turned to shit and the world went up in smoke? It wouldn't be the first time. He and Eames would still go on, and maybe next time they'd put in fail safes against the several ways humans had found to create large-scale damage to others with minimal risk to themselves.

Well into the first day of their second week in seclusion, Arthur finally decided to confront the elephant in the room.

“Have you had any thoughts?” he asked Eames as they lay together in bed, facing each other in the dim light of pre-dawn.

Eames' expression was grim. “None that stand much chance of working.”

“Maybe we should put even the bad ideas on the table,” Arthur suggested. “Something might spark a more feasible idea.”

“Well, what ideas have you had?” Eames said, sounding slightly defensive.

“Nothing,” Arthur rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Not a one. If we had any idea what or who we were looking for, I'd be your man. But we know nothing, except that there's something. I can't work with nothing Eames. I don't have the imagination.”

“Well, the only thing I've come up with is pretty basic, and probably stupid,” Eames said unhappily.

“Let's hear it then.” Arthur said, rolling back to face his guide.

“Whoever or whatever it is seems to like playing with us,” Eames said cautiously. “What if we took ourselves off the playing board?”

Arthur blinked. “You mean kill ourselves?”

“No!” Eames replied, his face reflecting his horror. “The very thought… it might be because we're bonded, but the very idea of that turns my stomach. No, I was thinking that we should retire to some snowy mountain top, and just… not take part in the world.”

Arthur's knee-jerk reaction was to say no. They had responsibilities. They were needed. But hadn't he been thinking something along those lines for a while now? Not the deliberate bowing out, but the fact that their presence didn't really matter?

The only problem with the plan that he could see was that both of them would be bored out of their brains in rather short order.

But… maybe their hidden watcher/meddler wouldn't know that. Maybe they could fool it just long enough to get it to make a mistake.

In the end, what did they really have to lose?

He tried sending an emotion burst along the channel between them, going for a mix of approval, concern, and trepidation.

“I suppose that's all we can really do,” he said out loud, making his voice as sad as he could. “What's the point in continuing this charade of lives if we can't enjoy them? You're right. We should live out the rest of these lives in seclusion, and then give up on the world building thing.”

There were warm happy feelings coming back towards him, and Arthur got a mental picture of Eames rubbing his hands together in glee.

“And it will probably mean the end of our partnership,” Eames agreed out loud. “After all, if we don't have our joint projects anymore, we would have no reason to gravitate towards each other. No, we should probably make it a clean break. It would be better for both of us in the long run.”

Even as Arthur was nodding his sad agreement, an unexpected figure appeared in the corner of the bedroom.

It wore the body of an adult woman, but there was something about it that screamed 'child' to Arthur's mind. He received immediate reinforcement of this belief via channel from Eames, even before she opened her mouth.

“No!” She cried, stomping her foot. “That's not the way it's supposed to go!”

Arthur had never been more aware of being naked.

Eames didn't seem fussed. He slid out of bed and over to the bathroom door where two fluffy bathrobes were hanging. The mental age of their Visitor was somewhat confirmed for Arthur when she didn't turn her head to watch him go.

“How is it 'supposed' to go then?” Eames asked when he was robed, handing Arthur's robe over to him.

“There's going to be an exciting showdown in Scotland!” their Visitor said petulantly. “But not if neither of you are there to make it happen! Why doesn't anyone want to play with me?”

“These… changes to what we had planned,” Arthur said carefully. “That was you?”

“You looked like fun,” she said, collapsing on a chair that appeared out of nowhere. “No one will play with me anymore, so I thought I could join in on your game. But you're so boring! All you want to do is play at being people, when you could be playing with them.”

“That's what we enjoy,” Arthur said gently. “We don't like playing with people.”

“I just thought if I could show you how much fun it is-” she said, her lower lip protruding in a pout. “But now you want to give up entirely! It's not fair!”

Arthur looked to Eames to see if he had anything helpful to offer. To his surprise, Eames was stony faced with no hint of conciliation on his face anywhere.

“Who are you? What are you?” Eames asked, his guide power backing up his questions.

Who or whatever she was, the Visitor seemed affected by it. She shrank back slightly and her eyes went wide.

“Mummy calls me Z, but Daddy calls me Querida.” Her lower lip began to wobble dangerously. “Mummy said I mustn't meddle, that you were both far too dangerous, but Daddy said that so long as I didn't let you see me I would get away with it. Are you going to tell on me? Am I going to be bound?”

“What are you?” Eames ground out, not appearing affected by Z's distress at all.

“We're the Q Continuum,” she blinked, and looked at him as if he was an idiot.

Arthur felt a surge of fierce joy. They had a name. Now that they knew what they were looking for, they would be able to make some progress. And regardless of how powerful this Q Continuum was, they would still be subject to the forces of Order and Chaos. One of them, if not both. They had won, even if the battle had yet to be fought.

“Tell you what,” Arthur said soothingly, wishing he could play bad-cop for once. “You leave us alone from now on, and we won't tell on you. Deal?”

Z didn't look happy with that option either. She nibbled on her lip, looking conflicted.

“Personally, I think you deserve every bit of whatever punishment you get.” Eames said, eyes like polished stones. “The hell you've put Arthur through for your 'game', you're lucky we don't call for your existence to be terminated. Do you have any idea of the rules you've broken? We are not mortals, foolish child. We are the embodiments of Chaos and Order. Our rule reaches everywhere.”

Arthur could feel Eames' conviction through their bond, and it made that part of him that had been falling in love with his natural opposite all warm and fuzzy. Eames might not love him the same way, but he did care. He cared enough to be getting up in the face of a being who had been running rings around them for a long time, even if she was young for her kind.

For the first time since she appeared, Z looked truly frightened. Arthur didn't blame her. Eames had never been so scary.

“Because Arthur has offered you a deal, I won't press the issue,” Eames stated. “This time. I've got your signature now, and if I ever have the slightest inkling that you've come back, if even one thing doesn't add up, I'll be coming after you. And it won't just be you either. That father that encouraged you? He's on the chopping block too.”

Z's eyes filled with tears.

“You have one chance. To be honest, I hope you blow it so I can have my justice. Now run away, little girl, and hope I don't change my mind.”

Z fled.

Arthur couldn't remember being this turned on.

“You, bed, now!” he ordered, throwing off his robe as soon as he was sure they were both alone. “You were so incredibly hot just then, I don't know how you haven't combusted. Come on Eames, hurry!”

Eames was barely close enough when Arthur pounced, bringing Bond's larger, heavier body to the bed. It was gratifying for Arthur to discover that he wasn't the only one hard, and he lost no time in taking that long, thick cock deep into his throat.

Arthur didn't know how long he spent working Eames' cock, only that the hand in his hair tugged him away before he was ready.

“My hair is not a handle for you to use!” he managed to say before his lips were taken in a fierce kiss.

“Your hair is like a separate entity,” Eames murmured back, releasing his mouth and going for his earlobe. “Tomorrow I'm going to fuck you in the shower against the wall, your hair slicked back so I can see your eyes at all times. So you can't hide.”

Arthur's whole body shuddered at the image Eames was evoking. He shoved his guide back for a moment, doing his best to glare when all he wanted to do was melt into a puddle.

“I'm on a mission, Mr Bond, and I would appreciate your assistance. If it helps, I suggest you lie back and think of England.”

Eames groaned. “If you think for one moment I'm going to let you get away with a line that corny, you have another thing coming.”

“I certainly hope so,” Arthur said with a sly grin, enjoying the shout of laughter his stupid joke evoked.

“Well, let's get on with that then,” Eames chortled.

“I'm driving this time, Mr Bond,” Arthur said, reaching for Eames' cock and giving it a rough stroke. “You can take the wheel next time. In the mean time, sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“If you insist, Quartermaster,” Eames conceded. He wiggled a bit when Arthur reached for the lube, waiting until the first finger was inside before continuing. “I've always preferred stick, you know.”

Arthur gave his lover a chiding look and scraped a fingernail gently over his prostate.

Eames jerked in reaction and Arthur allowed himself a smug smile.

“Good to know,” he said. It was the last coherent thing either of them said for a while.

It was early afternoon before Arthur felt himself drifting back into consciousness.

Waking up still curled around Eames' toasty warmth, Arthur felt his whole body echo his contentment.

He could feel his guide's echoing contentment, along with a complicated mix of soft and hard emotions that as a sentinel he had no name for. Underlying all of that was a deep well of sadness, a misery that had been somehow partitioned off from the rest. Arthur was curious as hell as to what that could be, but he had known Eames for long enough to realise that if his guide wanted him to know, he'd tell him. If he didn't, there was no way that anything Arthur could say would budge the stubborn bastard.

Eames turned over and smiled sleepily. His face was open and unguarded in a way that few had probably ever seen.

“What say we have a shower, darling?” he rumbled, his lips curving further. “I have a promise to keep, after all.”

That was enough to get Arthur moving, despite his prior stance on sex in the shower, i.e. that it was an accident waiting to happen and not something that intelligent people indulged in.

They were nearly at the bathroom door when Arthur heard a sound that made his libido cool remarkably.

Bond's phone was powering up. That could only mean that something had happened at Six. Something concerning enough for the Q-branch minions to risk his wrath and utilise the remote override.

Eames must have recognised the severity of the situation as well, he went from playful lover to focused double-oh agent in the blink of an eye.

“Bond!” he barked, answering the phone as soon as it rang, putting it on speaker so that Arthur could hear and take part in the conversation.

“And Q,” Arthur said, letting the mantle of Q-branch head settle over him. It was time to be Q again, even if he had significantly more experience as Arthur.

“We've got an issue, sirs,” came the nervous voice of R, Q's second in command. “There's no time for details, but we have a target that has escaped custody, and we think he may be going after M.”

“Send his file,” Q instructed, pulling on his clothes as his mind raced. “Where is M currently?”

“She's attending the enquiry into the stolen hard drive.” R sounded relieved. “Double-oh Six is following de Silva's trail, but I'd be much happier if M had a bit more backup.”

“Who does she have?” Bond asked, picking up the phone and leading his Quartermaster up the stairs and to a cupboard where he opened a concealed compartment in the base of the hot water cylinder to retrieve a veritable armoury of weapons, all packed neatly in the space available.

Q gave Bond the stink eye, but decided that now wasn't the time to talk about it.

“Moneypenny, Tanner, and Mallory,” came R's miserable answer.

Bond and Q cursed simultaneously.

“Give me that,” Q demanded, gesturing to one of the hand guns in Bond's collection. “R, I want you to ensure we get a clean run to Whitehall.”

“Yes sir!” R answered, sounding happier now she had instructions to follow.

Q swore quietly. What had M been thinking, leaving such a green agent in charge of Operations? R was brilliant and would one day be more than capable of taking charge of Six in an emergency situation. At present she was too young, and too new. Giving her this kind of responsibility before she was ready could break her. If it did, Q and M would be having words.

“We should be there in under ten minutes,” Q said, committing de Silva's file to memory, taking especial care to observe his face and profile.

“Double-oh Six said de Silva's been tagged with ST14,” R reported.

“Good,” Q breathed, a smile twisting his mouth as he got in the BMW that Bond had picked from the cars available on the street, barely managing to get the door closed before they were off down the road in a screech of tyres. “If he's got any brains he'll try to cover that up, but ST14 is pervasive, and only two known compounds can cover it up.”

“We've just confirmed a visual,” R said, sounding outraged. “He's disguised as a policeman and he's still heading in M's direction. Double-oh Six has been held up. He won't get there in time!”

“We will.” Q promised grimly. With that he let his sense of smell start to range ahead of them, keeping one hand on Bond's shoulder to ground himself.

Q had never used his senses like this. He'd never had the freedom to do exactly as he wished with them, secure in the knowledge that his guide would be able to keep him from zoning. It was liberating. He felt like he was flying ahead of his body in world described in sound and smell.

“Hurry!” Q said urgently as he connected to a distinctive smell making its way purposefully towards their destination. “He's nearly there.”

But so were they. Bond abandoned any pretence of safe driving and used the BMW in a way that domestic vehicles were never intended for.

By now Q could see the figure dressed as policeman up ahead. Making a snap decision based on the traffic he opened the door and threw himself from the car, barely hearing Bond curse and the squeal of overworked brakes.

Q was locked onto his target. The world was narrowing. Time seemed to slow down as he put on an extra burst of speed to get within range. As soon as he knew he had a viable shot he took it, just as the target opened the door into the building that would lead to M.

With his eyesight dialled up, Q had a top-notch view of what a bullet to the head from sixty-five metres away looked like.

v^v^v^v

Arthur had never been more grateful for James Bond's reputation as an uncooperative arsehole.

When MI5 wanted to separate them for questioning, Bond was having none of it. A full minute after the argument started, Alec Trevelyan took over the scene, flashing his smile and his credentials at the same time.

As Alec was carrying all the proper authorisations with him, things went a lot more smoothly from there.

Q spoke briefly with R, giving several orders and assuring her that he would be back at work in a day or two. She sounded so relieved that Arthur started making plans on the spot. She needed to be tougher.

He put his planning to one side when they got back to the house in Queen Anne Street. As Eames locked the door behind them, Arthur felt himself relax, losing the tension that he had held since he had heard Bond's phone power up.

“Fucking hell,” Eames said roughly, pulling Arthur into an embrace. “I'm even more ready for that shower now. Come on, let's get dirty while we get clean.”

“And then you can tell me about that armoury you've got going on upstairs,” Arthur said, following his guide without protest.

Sex in the shower with Bond was just as amazing as Arthur had thought it would be. Two hours after they had risen from their bed they were back in it, curled around each other in a bid to get as close as possible.

“I'm so glad I have an excuse to be away from Six for the moment,” Arthur said drowsily. “Can you imagine the hornets' nest it must be at the moment? I'd much prefer to be here with you.”

Eames chuckled deep in his chest, the sound reverberating through Arthur in a most pleasant manner.

“You're too nice,” he said, his hand stroking it's now familiar path up and down Arthur's back. “If you're enough of an arsehole, no one will want you there.”

Eames probably had a point, Arthur thought muzzily just as dropped off to sleep. The annoying bastard often did.

v^v^v^v

“Well then?” M asked, the minute they walked into her office on their first day back. “Out with it. I haven't got all day.”

“Here are my release forms, fully filled in and awaiting your signature,” Bond said, his mouth quirked in a slightly wry smile. “I've given some thought as to where I can be of use, and Q suggested training and development.”

“I was thinking that with Bond's expertise, coupled with my skills, we would be able to do a complete overhaul of the training regime,” Q added, leaning forward in his eagerness. “I've had some ideas along those lines already, I've only lacked the time and the access to specialised knowledge. As a result of the de Silva débâcle, I've decided I need to give my top minions more experience leading Q-branch. Since I'll still be available in case of a true emergency, this will provide a safe training environment for them as well.”

“Of course you'll still be overseeing all their work,” M stated.

It wasn't a question, but Q nodded anyway. “Of course. But I can do that from anywhere in Six.”

“Our shielding doesn't hinder you?” M said, closing her eyes and tightening her fingers slightly.

“Not really.” Q shrugged. “But it works out alright, and since we'll be building new headquarters, we can incorporate proper shielding there from the start. Go for overkill.”

“Very well,” said M with a sigh. “I need you both to go through some files and make recommendations for at least two more double-oh agents. Let me know your thoughts within the next two days.”

Q nodded, and Bond took the flash drive M held out towards them.

M rose to her feet and looked out through the window at the bustle of MI6 around her. “I suppose I should tell you now,” she began, her back to both of them. “I have been advised that it's time for me to retire. I've given it some thought over the last few days, and I've decided that maybe it's time. There will be a handover period of six months or so, but before the New Year Mallory will be officially instated as 'M'.”

Arthur could feel Eames' shock and sudden grief, but he could also tell that these feelings were kept behind those impressive shields. It was only their bond that allowed him any insight at all as to how this news affected his guide. He did his best to send comfort through the link, but was unsure as to how successful he was.

M turned back around, and despite Bond's shields, she must have seen something because she smiled. It was a small and wintery smile, but genuine as far as Q could tell.

“The end of an era,” she murmured. Then her face returned to its usual passivity and her eyes hardened. “I'll accept your transfer, Bond, but you should probably liaise with Mallory as far as your ideas for training go.”

“Of course, M,” Bond inclined his head.

Arthur briefly wondered if Bond's impending resignation had anything to do with M's decision to step down. Two weeks ago, if anyone had told him that she would willingly give her chair to another, he would have dismissed it as an impossibility.

As they left her office he considered what the future might look like.

Things would change, but they would also stay the same. He and Eames were bonded as sentinel and guide, and that was something neither of them had experienced before.

Arthur was in love with Eames and had an eternity of heartache to look forward to. Oh, but there were sure to be many wonderful times, and Arthur would prefer his unrequited love than to not have Eames with him at all.

v^v^v^v

“What do you think we should do next time?” Arthur asked that night as they lay together in bed. “Now that we don't have to worry about interference, I mean.”

“Don't worry darling,” Eames replied. “I'm going to make it so that we can be Arthur and Eames, nothing out of the ordinary about us. Just a nice placid life to make up for all this excitement. I know just the thing.”

And Eames carefully hid his glee as he thought about the blueprints he'd been keeping in reserve for some time. Hopefully nineteenth century Earth was ready for Lord Eames. Oh well, ready or not, Lord Eames was ready for nineteenth century Earth.

Of course, they couldn't both be Lords… it was going to be fun.

The End


End file.
